


Hidden Places

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Feels, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Caves, Fluff and Humor, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Pies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 19:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10419612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Slow down," Merlin says, tearing his gaze from the passing scenery and allowing himself to stare at his companion.HisArthur, hale and whole and actually here again after such a terrible absence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [Tavern Tales community](http://tavern-tales.livejournal.com/) February theme: [Caves, Cabins, Cottages](http://tavern-tales.livejournal.com/28891.html) (and Valentine's Day, sort of - or more like in spite of it). Also, despite appearances in this ficlet, Arthur is not a paid spokesman for Pieminister. He wishes.

Merlin knows they're close well before he spots the first sign. The land still speaks to him when he bothers to listen, especially in the old, sacred places, the ones so steeped in magic over the centuries that it's yet to be worn away. Sometimes he'll even sense echoes of his own magic from long ago. They give him ugly shivers down his spine, hot prickles on the back of his neck, an aching lump in his throat – and empty hands. Always that dreaded awareness in his palms, in his fingers. Useless. Useless when it really counts, and therefore destined to be empty.

But maybe, this time…

"Slow down," Merlin says, tearing his gaze from the passing scenery and allowing himself to stare at his companion. _His_ Arthur, hale and whole and actually here again after such a terrible absence. He'd begun to worry that the last go-round had been too much, that the Fates themselves could not see the future through the toxic smoke of gas chambers and atomic bombs.

Merlin blinks. "It'll be the next left, just over the ridge." He beats Siri's navigation by seconds.

"Showoff," Arthur mutters, but it's accompanied by a snort, then a spreading smile. Once he's downshifted, he reaches over and gives Merlin's thigh a brief squeeze. "And will it rain on our parade, O Mighty One?"

"Hell if I know," Merlin says, grinning as Siri launches into the local precipitation forecast and announces that, at this time, there are no parades scheduled within 50 kilometres.

* * *

The car park is empty. According to the sign, the caverns closed at half-past four, but someone's left the gate open for them at the trailhead. Arthur parks across it and climbs out of the car, stretching his back while Merlin grabs their rucksacks from the boot. 

As soon as he's got the straps settled on his shoulders, Arthur nudges Merlin. "Race you," he says, and is off lolloping up the path while Merlin is still struggling with the zip on his jacket.

"Miserable cheat!" Merlin yells. He doesn’t really care about winning, but the instinct not to lose sight of Arthur has only grown more powerful over the centuries. He tears off after him as soon as he's sorted the zip.

He's panting by the time he makes it to the top of the hill. Arthur's already crouching at the cave mouth – not in the least bit winded, damn him – pawing through a small mound of offerings. 

"Score!" Arthur looks up with a wild grin as Merlin approaches. "The crystals and hemp and whatnot are all very well, but have I told you how much I love when they leave _pies_?"

Merlin snorts. "Once or twice. Anything good?"

"Oh yes. Top shelf. Pieminister's wild shroom, deer stalker, and – " Arthur straightens up, juggling three cardboard boxes. " – ah, lovely. Chicken of Aragon. A veritable feast of pies. We'll have to make this one quite special, yeah? Really _work_ for our supper?" He waggles his eyebrows and his hips, then gives Merlin an exaggerated wink. 

It's ridiculous, not sexy in the least. Still, Merlin can't help but be charmed. They've not always been lovers down the ages; even when they are, Arthur's never been this playful about it. He's so much looser now, vocal and handsy and free with his emotions. Merlin doubts he actually _feels_ more – Arthur's always had one of the greatest hearts he's ever known – but this time around it's like he's utterly fearless about showing it. 

Merlin doesn't know if it's a product of the times or some overarching progression in Arthur's journey. And right now, he doesn’t care. Right now, he just wants…

"Wait," Merlin says, darting forward and catching Arthur by the elbow as he steps into the cave. 

"Merlin, what – " Arthur fumbles the pie boxes, managing to hang onto two while the third flips and plops to the ground.

"Don’t go in just yet. Let's – " He crowds in close, taking Arthur's face in his hands, half-crushing the pie-boxes between them as he reels him in for an impassioned lip-locked, tongue-swap sort of kiss.

"Wow," Arthur whispers as Merlin pulls back. "Um." He drops the remaining pie boxes and pulls Merlin flush against him, searching his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but what's got into you? I thought we needed to be inside, with all the proper spells and stuff, for the nation to come to it's sen– "

"No more bloody _caves_ ," Merlin says, gripping Arthur by the straps of his rucksack. He barely recognises his own voice. "Just once, I want… Not for the land, not for the people – not for fucking Albion, or because you're about to die, but…"

Merlin trails off, embarrassed by the tears that have welled up but not ashamed of the sentiment behind them. In every age, caves have been sacred to them. They've been a refuge, a temple, even a home. But they've been a prison, too, and there was one that nearly became Merlin's tomb. 

And even when they've been above ground, the caves are still with them, their time together always marked by secrecy whether it's down to deep, eternal magic or circumstances driven by earthly shame. Dark forests and filthy lanes. Dim-lit chambers; muddy trenches; treacherous barracks, mansions, and residence halls. 

"Merlin?"

Merlin swallows, looking at Arthur – Arthur the man himself, his beloved, destiny be damned – and letting one hand drop down to curl possessively around his hipbone. He doesn’t bother wiping his eyes, letting the tears fall at will. 

"We've only ever dared show our love in hidden places," he says by way of explanation, trying to steady his voice. 

When Arthur makes no reply, he adds, "I swear we will do our duty by Albion before the night is through, but by all the gods, goddesses, and the Fates – " He begins dragging Arthur away from the mouth of the cave, towards the green hillside turning gold and pink under the last of the day's sunshine. "First let's fuck out here in the grass, under the open sky, for no other reason but our own pleasure."

Arthur's response is an ardent, "Thought you'd never ask," followed by a thorough – and thoroughly ill-coordinated – snog-walk and tumble into the grass. 

Merlin lands half on top of Arthur, who swiftly rolls him over and, shrugging out of his rucksack, attacks Merlin's jacket zip, then the one on his trousers. "But still pies after, hm? Nice and magic-piping-hot?"

"The pipingest!" Merlin promises, laughing as he reaches for Arthur's belt. The skin beneath is warm, and real, and this time around he vows he's going to cherish every inch of it as often as possible, wherever he likes, for as long as the Fates allow.


End file.
